Love Never Dies But It Smells of Death
by StitchGrl
Summary: The mock-fest continues. Seriously.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own any of this stuff. I don't want to.

**SPOILER WARNING:** Do not read this if you don't want to know what happens in Phantom: Love Never Dies. Just don't do it to yourself, my friends.

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**THE CURTAIN RISES**

Christine pushed drunk Raoul off of her and threw on her nightshirt. _No more subjecting myself to violent gentlemen. Where is he-the-glorious-lover, anyway?_

Erik was in his tent.

God. He was still _gorgeous. _Along with the curious shrinking of his disfigurement, he seemed to have grown younger. Much younger. Cupid lips, with a slight curl at the ends. He was brooding over his music when she lifted the curtain and crept inside.

"Erik?"

He turned, unfastened shirt button and all, and leapt to grasp her like a hot cake out of the oven. "Ah, Christine! You've come back to me."

"Yes," she whispered, "I have brought my family here so that I can sing for you one more time."

"Oh my love," he said adoringly, "You are more beautiful than I remember."

"And you..." She gasped. "You look so beautiful. So very beautiful...beautiful..."

"My beauty is underneath."

"Yes," the ageless singer replied, "I remember what is underneath. I remember everything that happened that night. There was no moon in the sky...It was dark. I could not see anything. Because it was nighttime. And night is dark."

"And I touched you..."

"And I groped you..."

"And our melodic hearts met as one."

"Perhaps more than our hearts!"

"Yes!"

She suddenly turned away. "Erik you have been shamefully unfaithful to me."

"How?"

"I have seen the way Meg looks at you."

"Little Giry?" He laughed, "I would never! That little tart can barely get my attention, let alone my affection."

"But she loves you! And adores you! And will never ever leave you!"

"Ah, well, we all make mistakes sometimes."

Christine was happy. "I want you to meet someone."

"Oh?" He arched his perfect eyebrow from his 95% perfect face.

"Erik, this is Gustave."

Out of the shadows appeared a beautiful, pale, effeminate little boy.

"This is my son," the diva said proudly.

The child crept to the Phantom in eerie silence. "Hello, Mister."

"Hello." Erik bent down a bit to meet eye to eye with Gustave. _So good-looking. _"How old are you?"

"Ten, sir."

"That's a lovely age." Erik looked at Christine, showing a little tenderness but not too much because he is mysterious.

The child began to play six notes on the piano. Erik could hardly contain himself. "Oh, lord. Such talent...And he's only TEN YEARS OLD!"

"Yes," Christine smiled. "He likes to goof around and make his own music for hours."

"Obviously, Raoul is very supportive?"

"Well...Raoul tries his best."

"Father never plays with me," little Gustave says. "Father likes his big glass bottle."

"Oh, Gustave!" Christine wept.

"Well your father is not..._equipped_...to appreciate the obvious."

"This place is beautiful" sang Gustave. "I've never seen a circus so beautiful."

Erik looked at Christine, and this time he pulled her aside. "My dear, I have guessed your deep dark secret."

"What are you talking about?" Christine bit her lip.

"The child...that night....when we made love fourteen times...we created something."

"Oh no!" She covered her face with her hands. "You've found me out. What shall I ever do?"

"You must never leave me again, Christine." Erik touched her face. "Fate links thee to me, forever and a day."*

Gustave was still singing those six notes.

Christine cried. She loved Erik so much. And to think, the first chapter of their lives were a complete waste of time since they would always end up together.

Erik must bribe Raoul and deal with the fury of the Giry's before someone gets accidentally shot.

and–

**SCENE**

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*couldn't help slipping in a tender moment. Despite all this trash, I still love me some E/C smut. Off to cleanse the mind with some Leroux now.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gaaawwww," Erik groaned, "My insides hurt. They're in PAIN."

"What can I do to heal you my love?"

"Turn off that DAMN music box!"

Christine batted her eyes profusely. "But Erik, that is a gift you gave our son. He would be heart-broken if you stopped him from toying with it."

"Don't make me repeat myself!" He seethed, and Christine obliged.

Gustave began to cry. "You are not much nicer than my other Papa."

***

Raoul was broody. Oh, so so broody. The gin coma was slowly erased by a serious headache and he slammed his hand on the counter as loud as he could.

"One more drink, Sir!"

Bartender Joe pushed the bill at him. "You must take care of the tab, _sir._"

"I SAID ONE MORE DRINK!" The fop hair clung to the Count's sweaty brow.

"You horses always think loud equals effective," Joe mumbled and patted the bill. "Pay up."

"I thought I'd find you here."

Raoul peered over his left shoulder to see Meg Giry, giving him one of those "Jasmine to Aladdin" faces that suggested she knew who he REALLY was under all that booze-breath.

"Meg."

She sighed, "I'm surprised you recognized me."

"As am I," Raoul took a swig from his empty cup. "Look at you. The beast's fool. Following orders. Horrible."

"Look at you. Booze and sweat. Impotent. Pitiful."

"Once upon another time, we were were on the same side."

"Ten years is a long time." She looked away.

"Since 1881."

"Hm, but if it's 1907 now, it should technically be more than ten–"

"Who CARES?"

"Nobody," she said bitterly. "I don't care. I've thrown my youth away to please who mother thinks is God. I'm the Ooh-la-la girl with an act that will make Miss Adelaide and Evelyn Nesbit jealous."

The Count snickered. "Bathing Beauty. Such a peach."

***

"And this," Erik said after moments of petting his Christine automaton, "is my electric guitar."

"YESSSSSSSS." Gustave stroked the instrument with his pale little fingers and ooohed and ahhhed like Nadir on hashish. "It's so _beautiful._"

"Go ahead," Erik folded his arms, "Play with it."

The boy struck a chord.

The phantom covered his mouth. "_GENIUS._"

"I think he's in love with you," Christine said to Erik adoringly. "I've taught him well."

"Oh?"

"He looks with his heart and not with his eyes. He knows that love is often disguised."

Erik sneered.

"Yes," She said with a sigh of sadness, "Raoul is the one wearing the mask now, and he wonders why I love him still."

"Clever." Erik said drily. "I should show the boy my face then?"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that." Christine said quickly.

"Why not?"

"Well," she thought for a moment. "You might scare him."

Erik frowned. "I was jesting. Have I _ever _removed my own mask _voluntarily_ to strangers, let alone to people I protect?"

She thought for a moment and shook her head.

"Precisely."

"But," She raised a protesting finger, "This time, you _will._"

A deep, sinister growl followed the length of that wagging finger.

"WHY."

"Because it is written, Erik. It is written in the book–"

GROWL.

"I mean the script–"

_GROWL._

_"_I mean, the seq–"

"ENOUGH!" The phantom swept to his organ and slamed his fists against the keys so hard that a few black notes flew out and hit Gustave in the head.

"OW, PAPA!"

"SHUT. UP. I need to be alone."

"Come Pierre!" Christine lead her son off stage and calmed him in the wings. "Father's under a lot of–pressure–right now. You understand..."

"But he was just teaching me to play the electric guitar!" Pierre cried.

"I know," Christine cupped the poor child's face in her hands. "And he will finish with you later. You just don't want to see him when he's angry. He gets..Well you're father Raoul isn't nearly as bad when he's backhanding me."

The boy was severely let down but followed his mother.

Erik had already repaired his organ and began winding up his automaton. "Now, let me see," he whispered, "what hook from 'The Apartment' shall we start off on in your first aria?"

"I hope you're _aria _is for Meg, my friend." Madame Giry entered and slammed her candy cane on the stage with panache.

Erik ignored her. He owed her nothing and never wanted anything to do with the old croanie even when she followed him to Coney Island.

"Or did you forget Meg. My daughter. The ballerina you promoted 10 years ago."

"More than 10 years ago."

"Plenty of time to have earned the right to be the star of your show."

"She is the star because there _is _no talent on this island." His fist came down on the keys again, and this time a key hit Madame Giry on the brow. "We are in _America, _and if Christine Daae weren't gracing us with her prescence, I'd give the aria to Christine Nilsson over MEG. In fact, if it weren't for my unduly respect for the managers at the Metropolitan Opera House, I wouldn't have settled for this pathetic _circus _hosted by freaks in the first place."

"Are you saying you won't give the aria to my daughter?"

Erik squeezed an ivory key so hard that it cracked. Trapped, his hands trembled with rage. His sanity: questionable. A sudden urge to detoxify.

"_Get me Christine. Now._"

to be continued...


End file.
